Loyalty
by Raven Ehtar
Summary: Mello was forced to blow the Mafia hideout, injuring himself and losing all his connections. So he called in Matt. Whoever said Matt went willingly? Mild Matt/Near shonen-ai, rated for brief language.
1. Trust

_**A/N:**__ Hello again, everybody, long time no see!_

_Alrighty, to those of you who have read my little humor fic starring Matt and Near under the title __Playtime__, this two-shot was originally going to be the very end of that fic, as it shall be continuing. … I'm not sure who it was that dropped the acid in my drink that made me think that this would be a good direction to take __Playtime__, but thankfully it wore off before any real damage was done. ^^ However, I liked the concept too much, and had put in too much work into the outline to just scrap it. Besides, there's so little Matt/Near out there, it seemed a shame to toss it out._

_So, here we have my second favorite pairing for __Death Note__, Matt/Near. Do not fear, __Playtime__ fans, we will not be progressing this way. There are definite similarities, but these two fics are separate. Enjoy, everybody!_

_**Music: **_Video Kid _by The Birthday Massacre_

_**Warnings:**__ True name reveals for Near and Matt and shonen-ai. Don't like, don't read. XP_

_**Disclaimer: **__Death Note__ © to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata… but they is nice and let me borrow it. ;D_

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Loyalty

Part One, "Trust"

Raven Ehtar

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"Near…"

The detective took a breath as his name was called out and slowly released. It was something of a relief to finally hear, as he had been waiting for it in this room all day. He had heard the door as it had opened behind him, recognized the footfalls as they approached his back, but it wasn't until the voice that was almost as familiar as his own rang out that some tightness seeped out of his shoulders. There was only one person in the world that could be standing behind him, waiting to be acknowledged, and only one who would have any reason to meet with him now. It was why Near was waiting.

It was dim in this room, the hub of the SPK headquarters, where Near and his very recently reduced team spent the majority of their time. All around the room were dozens of monitors stacked from floor to ceiling, and they were the only real source of light to be had, their white glow only interrupted by Near's calligraphic 'N' set in each one. It was very late, so late that it bordered on early, but Near had not left this room since he had forced his team to leave, to sign off and return home. None of them had been quite willing to leave the albino on his own, considering the events that had taken place earlier that evening and his even more withdrawn behavior. Near had forced the issue, though, even threatened severance, and they had left him alone.

Since then, Near had spent his time setting out a domino mosaic. Hundreds of them were scattered throughout the room, threading in and out of each other in a complex, nearly symmetrical weave. The tiles took up almost the entire floor of the SPK's control room, some even finding their way up small staircases made of their fellows to the tops of the desks. Near sat in the center of the room, carefully nestled in a small circle clear of dominoes. It had taken some very cautious maneuvering to achieve his position and not set off the mosaic, but he had managed. Once there, he had waited patiently, if tensely, for the man who now stood behind him.

Without turning to look at his visitor, he returned the monosyllabic greeting: "Matt."

There was a pause, and Near heard the hacker shift slightly, uncomfortably. He could almost see the look on the older man's face, could visualize his movements. The eyes that shifted to the left and down, the brows that drew close over the bridge of his nose, the hands that twisted at the cuffs of his shirt… he had seen the expression and mannerisms before, under somewhat similar circumstances, and it wasn't an incident he was likely to forget.

Another series of soft footfalls as Matt came closer, right to the edge of Near's delicate mosaic. "I got a phone call," he said, sounding as though every word were forced. "From Mello."

Near did not respond, but picked up one of the dominoes and examined it closely. Half of his mosaic was composed of white dominoes and standard black pips, while the other half was made from black with white pips. Near held one of the latter.

Black dominoes, he decided, were beautiful, much more so than their white counterparts. Their sheen and glossiness, the sharp, exact lines and angles of them, the way the white pips just seemed to float within them, like tiny motes of innocence in a sea of sin… Dirt refused to show on the black rectangles, any smudges were simply absorbed by the dark coloring. Whereas on the white dominoes, any fault was instantly recognizable.

The black dominoes maintained their beauty, despite any taint.

"He's in bad shape," Matt was saying, voice strained.

Near replaced the domino, careful not to jostle its neighbors. Matt sounded almost desperate as he spoke for Near to respond to him, to react somehow to what he was saying. Still not turning in his place on the floor, Near finally replied to the redhead. "I assumed that after the blast Mello's damage would be considerable," he said, tone flat. "Soichiro Yagami has died as a result of injuries received during the explosion, and the two of them were in close proximity to each other."

Another long pause. Near could almost feel the anxiety humming through the other man as he struggled, for all their distance. Finally, "… He needs help, Near."

The albino detective almost laughed aloud. It was so ridiculous, really, this dance Matt was performing around him, carefully hedging around what it was he really wanted to say, what it was he had come to do. It was as though he were afraid of what Near's reaction might be to his departure, when all he should have been concerned with was how quickly he could get to Mello's side. It's not as though he had ever expected Matt to stay with him, not while Mello was still out there.

_-------_

_It had only been three days since Roger had called Near and Mello into his dusty office to tell them that L had been killed by Kira. Mello had left the orphanage that same night, while Near had spent the majority of his time going over what little information on the case that was available to them, fitting pieces together and planning out how to acquire more. There wasn't very much left at all. L and Mr. Wammy had both kept records electronically, and at some point near the end, every file had been wiped clean. All Near had to go on were the few sporadic times L or Mr. Wammy called the House and dropped hints, the tiny pieces of the case that were publicly seen or heard, and his own instinct. It would take a very long time to find his way back to the point L had been at before he died._

_When Matt had come to see him, Near had been in his room, looking over newspaper clippings and piecing together a robot garage kit. The redhead was not his usual self. He had never been as energetic or boisterous as his blond companion, but as he entered Near's sanctuary - without knocking - he appeared withdrawn, holding himself contained so as to take up as little room as possible. His clothes were disheveled and wrinkled, as though he had slept in them, and the absence of his goggles showed his normally clear green eyes were red rimmed and swollen. He stood just inside Near's door, hands plucking distractedly at his sleeves, eyes swiveled to the left, brows drawn down._

_Near stared at the intruder, curious. Matt's physical appearance was easily understood, if not his entrance into Near's room. He had heard on his occasional excursions out into the house that Matt had not left his room since Mello's departure. Obviously the boy was taking the loss of his friend hard, the evidence of his weeping only acted to confirm it. Why he might choose to see Near while he was in such a state Near was unsure, but not all of the possibilities were strictly benign. Matt had never been abusive before, but that had been before Mello had left, and in a way, Near could be blamed for Mello's leaving. If Matt felt the need to take his anguish out on anyone, Near was the logical choice._

_Near watched him for any sudden moves, preparing himself in case he should need to retreat, and waited._

_Still standing at the door, and eyes averted away from the pale boy in front of him, Matt spoke with a voice roughened by tears. "He left, Near," he said. "He left without a word. I was standing right by the door when he walked out, and he barely looked at me."_

_The younger boy did not reply, understanding that Matt needed to just speak for a minute and articulate how he felt. He wasn't convinced yet that this was a purely peaceful visit, so he continued to watch carefully, rather than turn his attention back to his projects._

"_He was my best friend, and he didn't even say good-bye, just because…" Matt trailed off, and stared into a corner of Near's room for a full minute. Finally, he lifted his head and met Near's gray gaze with his own bloodshot one. "And now they're saying that __I'm__ second in line, and that I should try working with you to recover all of the data that was lost when L died."_

_Near tilted his head, fingers of one hand caught loosely in his hair. He would have expected a measure of anger to accompany Matt's last statement, some kind of disgust that he was being made to take the place left by Mello and work with the one who had driven him away. Instead, it had very nearly been neutral. Near supposed it to be a result of Matt's sheltering over the past three days. Not an absence of feeling so much as exhaustion robbing him of the ability to express it._

"_I can understand Matt's reluctance to work closely with me," Near said, speaking quietly and gently. "I will do my best to keep all personal interactions as brief as possible, if that would make Matt feel more comfortable."_

_Whatever it was that Near was meant to say, apparently that wasn't it, as Matt let his eyes drop away, and began fidgeting with his cuffs again, frown back in place._

_Near began to relax. Matt's body language and attitude were slowly convincing him that he would not suddenly decide to attack and vent his mourning. In fact, Matt seemed almost as confused by his presence in Near's room as the albino was. He twirled a lock of white hair as a thought occurred to him. Matt was used to having someone close who could listen and offer advice, so perhaps that was why he had come. "It wouldn't be so hard," he said slowly, "to track Mello down, considering Matt's skills. There are a limited number of places a boy of fourteen could go on his own. The two of you could be reunited within weeks."_

_The despondent redhead just twisted his sleeves harder._

_Near nodded to himself, satisfied he had discovered Matt's motivation. He wanted to leave the institution and search for Mello, but he didn't have quite the same drive that Mello possessed, sending him charging out to survive on his wits. He required some form of justification first. "When is Matt leaving?"_

_It was another minute before the older boy trained his gaze back on Near. His shifting and fidgeting quieted, and Near found himself suddenly apprehensive again under the intensity of Matt's stare. "I'm not going to track him down," he said, tone bitter but resolved. "The jerk left me behind, he doesn't want me with him…" the circles under Matt's eyes seemed to darken. "And I don't think I would care if I ever saw him again, either."_

_Near blinked at that. Since there had been a time when both boys had resided at the Wammy House, Mello and Matt had been close. It seemed impossible that their bond could be severed so easily. "I am sure Matt will feel differently once he has calmed, as I am sure of the same for Mello. However, Matt's skills and assistance would be greatly valued until that time comes."_

_Matt shook his head, and took his first step into the room since coming in and closing the door behind him. Near's room wasn't large, so it only took a few steps before he was standing over him, and then squatted down directly in front of him, alarmingly close. Near did not retreat from the intrusion of his personal space, but there was something unsettling in the way Matt was staring at him. "Near, I'm not going to track him down." He spoke every word with finality, determined to convince Near of his intention._

_Then was when Matt leaned in even closer, malachite eyes boring into his own. A hand came up and rested gently on Near's cheek, feeling cool to the touch and trembling slightly. Near sat frozen, forcing himself to not flinch, and unable to look away. "I'm staying here," Matt said, "with you."_

_Matt leaned in again. Near realized what he was about to do a second before it happened, and Matt pressed his lips against his. Near was too surprised to react, too shocked to move or try to pull away, and by the time he felt his body would obey any order to do so, Matt broke off. Without another word or so much as a backwards glance, he left Near alone in his room with the taste of tears still lingering on his lips._

-------

For five years, or very close, the two of them had worked together on the Kira case. Near could attribute much of the credit for retrieving the lost information to Matt and his ability to undo some of the damage done when Mr. Wammy had erased the data the original team in Japan had gathered. When Near had formed the SPK to begin his own investigation proper, Matt had become a kind of 'secret member.' Between the two of them, they had decided that he could work the most effectively if the rest of the team were unaware of his existence. To the entire team, save Near and Commander Rester, what was to be seen of the SPK was all that there was.

It was a good set-up they had this way, with the majority of the team working busily in the forefront and Matt acting quietly in the background. Going that route, Matt was able to uncover quite a bit that the rest of them could not, sometimes through less than legal channels, and sent his found information along. He was clever in the way he revealed his tidbits, letting them seep up in their systems as though they were already there, or deliberately causing certain screens to glitch and show something specific, leading to a 'spontaneous' inspiration. There had only been one time when his presence might have been detected, and that was during Mello's kidnap and ransom of Soichiro Yagami's daughter. However, everyone had been so busy at their own tasks that none took any notice of the adjustments made to the satellites. Only Near had taken any note of them.

Matt did his job very well, all from his small apartment on the thirteenth floor of the SPK headquarters. The vast majority of buildings in America were built 'without' a thirteenth floor, simply out of superstition. The SPK building was one of the few that did have such a floor, and it was deliberately roped off for the storage of things no one would have any desire to look through. Or so the team was told. If any had attempted to gain access to the thirteenth floor, the elevators would have taken them to the fourteenth, which _was_ for storage, and the doors from any stairwells were locked securely. To get to the thirteenth floor required an access code known to only three individuals.

Near had made it a habit of his while they were still at Wammy's to visit with Matt on a daily basis, to exchange information and ideas with the redhead. The habit continued after the SPK had been formed in March, and for the first few years, that's all their visits had ever consisted of.

After that single kiss, Matt had attempted no further advance on Near, and the albino never made any mention of it. Any time they met it was always very cool between them, and any conversation was kept on subject, never straying into gray waters. Near even doubted that they would have worked together as closely as they did if it hadn't been for Wammy's pressuring them to do so. They had never been close, and with the new burden placed on Near to immediately take over L's place and Matt's grief over Mello, they might have been wedged even further apart. Certainly there was a kind of barrier between them that Near would never have tried surmounting otherwise.

It was only over the last year and a half that they had begun talking about things that did not directly pertain to the investigation or how they intended to proceed within it. Small things, but they helped to bring down the wall that stood between the boys, and slowly made it easier for them to work together. How the day had gone, how one was progressing in his latest game, the reasoning behind childish toys… They got to know each other little by little, and Near found that he enjoyed Matt's company, and enjoyed the time spent in the little apartment on the thirteenth floor.

Occasionally, and only recently had there been a tentative, halfway progression in their cautious partnership. It was a small and subtle change, and Near was unsure when it had begun, if what he remembered as the first example was truly the first or just the first he had noticed. Small, tiny touches made in passing that lingered an instant too long, glances that took the place of entire conversations, silences that generated and wound up unease until it was almost unbearable…

Near wasn't an idiot, far from it in point of fact. He knew what these things meant, and what they could lead to. What was off balancing was that he had never expected to be in a situation like this himself, or for it to be Matt that presented himself as the interested party. He didn't know how he felt about Matt's semi-advances and hints of interest. He wasn't appalled or disgusted, but neither was he impatient to see Matt attempt for a more direct approach. If he had to label how he felt, he would say that he was passively curious to see what would become of such an arrangement, but wouldn't have been upset if it never came to be. Or so he would have thought.

It was because he was not a fool, however, that he knew that any attentions paid to him were not actually _meant_ for him. The sense of friendship and camaraderie that had sprung up between them, the tiny hints that it could be more… none of it was for Near. It was all for Mello. The only reason Matt had stayed with him for so long was because he was a connection, however tenuous, to Mello. It was why Matt looked at him the way he did, why he shared parts of his life, why he worked so hard by his side, because Near was simply a stand-in. It was also why Matt never pressed any further than he already had: because the real Mello was still out there somewhere.

Near had known that it had all been temporary, that someday Matt would leave him to find Mello. When he'd heard of the explosion in LA, he'd known that time had finally come, and he'd simply waited for the other shoe to drop.

Matt's kiss had tasted of salt… it had never been his.

With a sense of déjà vu, Near cut to the chase, tired of Matt's tiptoeing. "When is Matt leaving?"

"The part of the Mafia that Mello was affiliated with was been wiped out," Matt said, apparently determined to rationalize his reasons, though Near had given him the opportunity to just leave. "He's found some kind of family branch that he's holed up with for now, but they've got no allegiance to him, no reason to protect him or take care of his injuries." Matt paused in his speech, and Near heard him take in a long, tight breath, as though it were difficult for him to breathe. "He needs someone to get him out of there. He needs help."

Near nodded slightly, feeling a tightness developing in his own body, across his chest and shoulders, on down his arms. This farce of a conversation needed to end soon if he wanted to remain in control over his own emotions. "I understand the predicament quite well," he said, smoothing over his tone. "Matt is Mello's friend, and of course, Matt will rush to Mello's aid."

Near's attempt to remain neutral failed on Matt. He had spent too much time in the younger man's company, and knew how to read the signs. Enough of Near's attitude spoke of his exasperation for the redhead to pick up on. "Near, it's not the way you're making it sound…"

"No," Near said, almost snapping in a sudden flare of irritation. "I believe it is quite plain that Matt wants to go. However," and here Near finally turned his head so he could see Matt with one eye, just on the edge of the ring of illumination. He was twisting the cuffs of his sleeves absently, and watching Near with unshielded green eyes, brows drawn in worriedly. Near felt his own expression harden. "He also wants permission before he goes. How very…" Near hesitated an instant, tottering on the edge of saying 'obedient' before finishing with, "… considerate."

Matt's posture shifted again, registering embarrassment and discomfort to Near, who had also learned to read Matt very well. Near turned his head away, back to his spiraling basket weave of black and white dominoes. "When is Matt leaving?"

Something in that snapped Matt out of his withdrawal, and he raised his voice, the increased volume sounding like a shout in the quiet room. "Damn it, Near! Stop using the third person on me! You only do that when you want to keep people at a distance. And don't you dare act like you've known that this would happen, like it was expected! There is no way you could, I never intended to-"

"Matt," Near cut in, interrupting Matt. He was becoming tired, and had no desire to hear the hacker's excuses. "We've both known that Mello has never left your thoughts. Ever since he left, he has been a constant consideration in your actions, conscious or not. We've both known that while you kept company with me," Near flicked the end of the white domino line, which sped away. The line spilt and became dozens, which dove between the blacks. Row upon row fell, until only one remained, which climbed the stairway made of its fellows up to the top of a workstation. The last white fell across a keyboard with a clatter, and every monitor went dead, plunging the room and its occupants into darkness. Near shifted, using his memory to bring his hand close to the line of blacks.

"You have been waiting for a time when you could rejoin Mello," he finished, and struck the first black to send the rows tumbling. They were impossible to see, but they could be heard, and their pattern was identical to the white. One line became many, many became one, there was a final clatter as a black domino struck a keyboard, and the monitors flared back to life, temporarily blinding the two men. When their eyes no longer protested the light, each screen showed a single calligraphic 'M' in their centers.

Near saw Matt stare at the screens for a moment before turning a glare on to him. "Knock it off, Near," he snarled. "I won't be manipulated like this."

"By me," Near returned, absently catching up two of the fallen tiles.

"What?"

Near felt the tiny impressions that were the pips. "You won't be manipulated by me," he repeated, voice as bland as cream. "But it is obvious that you still allow Mello to retain a certain amount of control over you."

There was a hiss behind him, Matt exhaling through his teeth in frustration. "You seriously think you're rebound? That I've stuck with you all this time to use you as a replacement?"

It was Near's turn to shift as Matt's questions struck uncomfortably close to his own assumptions, but Matt either didn't notice or didn't care, and continued.

"Alright, fine, yes, it hurt like hell when he left, but he was only ever my friend, Near. I never had any plan to leave you and find him."

The edges of the dominoes in Near's hand bit into his fingers as he gripped them tightly. "All air," he said. "Actions speak louder than words."

Matt scowled, appeared ready to begin shouting in earnest, but reined himself back with some effort. "Alright, how about this, then? About a year after he left, Mello started calling me, once a month, every month."

"Calling," Near said, and received a terse nod in return. "To what purpose?"

The hacker sighed and ran a hand through a mess of auburn hair. "To tell me where he was," he said tiredly, "and to ask me to meet with him. I always refused, and eventually stopped answering whenever I saw that it was him on the line. He just left messages, then, regular as you please." Green eyes pierced gray through the dim light cast by monitors emblazoned with Mello's letter. "_I never went, Near_." He fished into one of his pockets and brought out a small red cell phone. He held it out to Near, "Check the phone records if you don't believe me."

Near made no move to rise from his place on the floor, or to take the offered phone. He stared at it distantly. "You could have easily gotten into the phone system and altered any previous call records…" Near trailed off.

Matt tossed his head. "Shit, Near! Do you honestly think that I would still be here, if I wanted…" the redhead stopped himself, gathering his wits as he stared at the floor. When he spoke again, he sounded exhausted. "If I were so determined, then why wouldn't I just walk out?"

Near paused, and thought about Matt's question, applying the same routes of logic that led him in his more professional investigations. "I do not know," he replied honestly. "Your behavior is contradictory from either standpoint: as Mello's confidant or as mine."

Matt's head lifted, and he quirked a brow at the smaller man in questioning.

"If you were truly Mello's," Near began, flipping the held dominoes over his fingers, "acting as his spy and relaying information back to him, then why you would still be trying to maintain… friendly relations with me, I am uncertain. Unless, of course, it is in the hopes that doing so will enable you to return at some later date when Mello is not in such desperate need of you, and continue to watch me on his behalf." Near watched Matt's expression carefully for any telling reaction to his statement, but the redhead was impassive. Near hadn't expected one, the spy that had led to the deaths of most of the SPK was obviously not Matt, and Near doubted Mello would have risked sending in two moles. "I don't believe this, however," he finished.

Matt just stared at Near through the dark, the light coming across his eyes at an angle and making them gleam while deepening the shadows of his face, sharpening the contrasts of his features. It made him look older, tired, and not the same carefree child gamer of Wammy's, or even the shy adolescent hacker Near had come to know over the past five years. This was a full-grown man that stood before him, whose true motives were hidden behind those eyes like glowing pools of jade. Complex motives that the once simple gamer was hiding from him.

Not turning his head away, so as to keep observing Matt's body language, he continued his theories. "If you were more inclined to remain with me, but still felt some residual kinship with Mello, then there is always the option of sending out a third party to collect him, while you remain here. This is not being carried out, and you seem very determined to go out and retrieve him yourself."

Again, there was no discernable reaction from the elder man as Near spoke. If anything, Near would have said that his face became more shuttered and immobile with each passing moment, leaving him to guess if Matt was still listening. Frustrated, Near finally turned his head away, cutting off the view of this man who was rapidly becoming a stranger. His voice was tired when he finished out his reasoning, unconsciously slipping back into his normal speech pattern. "I can only come to the conclusion, therefore, that my role in Matt's life was to simply act as a placeholder. Any action taken on Matt's part to smooth over any hard feelings generated by his departure I have to assume stem from his own sense of guilt. What he does now is to placate his own feelings, not mine."

The room was silent, neither man seeming to breathe or move at all. Near expected to hear footsteps behind him at any moment, followed by the mechanical sigh of the door as Matt let himself out and finally left the SPK headquarters. He expected the sound of footsteps, so when he heard them, it didn't register until he felt Matt's fingers dig into his shoulders that they had been coming closer, not retreating.

Near was forced to turn in place on the floor, knocking and scattering his fallen dominoes. He stared into Matt's scowling face, so close to his own that he could smell the stale odor of cigarettes that clung to him. He hated that smell, absolutely detested it, but it suddenly became one more thing he would miss when Matt was gone.

Matt's scowl softened somewhat, and when he spoke there was a gentleness overlaying the resolution in his tone. "Near, there's more to this than meets the eye. I can't tell you why, but I _have_ to go, there's no other option. I want to stay here, to work with you, not trail after Mello, whose gone renegade, kidnapped, extorted, and fuck knows what else. He wasn't exactly stable as a kid, and time's only made him worse." The expression softened even further, the green eyes becoming less like chips of stone, and one of Matt's hands brushed feather light against Near's cheek. "I want to stay here with you."

Near kept himself still, kept from leaning into the hand at his face, his eyes open and alert. There was something nagging at the back of his mind, a memory that was only half remembered, and that Matt's speech had stirred up. It was important to this, he was sure. A clue that would point him in the right direction, but it eluded Near, left him stumbling after for it.

Matt was still staring at him, waiting for some kind of response. Near swallowed. He still needed some sort of hint where Matt might really stand, and if his own memory failed him, then he would need to use his skills as a detective to gain an insight. One such skill was acting as a fairly accurate lie detector.

"Do you know his name, his real name?"

Matt froze, pupils contracting and revealing more green to the world. Slowly his hand drew away from Near, to rest on one of his knees, fingers curled in a loose fist. He sat back on his heels, and Near realized that he had been leaning forward before. Not breaking eye contact, Matt nodded shortly. "Yes, I do."

Instincts trained over the years and supported by personal knowledge of Matt told him that the hacker was telling the truth. With as little inflection or feeling as possible, he asked, "How?"

An inhale, then, "He told it to me, years ago, when we were still young. Not too long before L was killed."

Truth, again, and something more. The memory was beating against Near even harder than before. There had been something in that statement that called it closer, but it still refused to fully emerge.

Shaking off the fog of recollection, Near asked, "And he knows your real name?"

There was a shift in Matt's posture, the eyes flicked briefly. "I didn't tell him."

Near's expression instantly hardened, the gray eyes narrowed. Not a lie, but not quite the truth, the elder man was evading. "That was not what I asked," he said severely. "Is Mello aware of your real name?"

Matt winced. He wet his lips and replied as though the answer were being physically dragged out of him. "Yes…"

When all Near offered in reply was a level glare, Matt decided to elaborate. "He got into the system at Wammy's and found it," he said lowly, not quite meeting the glare full on. "He's a fairly good hacker himself, and he'd watched me do it before. He got into the files and found my name."

The words rang true, although Near could sense more behind them. So this was part of the reason Matt felt the need to come when Mello called: they knew each other's names. To the rest of the world it wouldn't seem much, but to those raised in the Wammy House, knowing someone else's true name spoke a lot for what those two people shared. Willing or not, knowing Mello's name, and having his own name known formed an even stronger bond between them. Strong enough to have Matt abandoning his home and the position he had held since Mello's departure.

However, in those five years, Near and Matt had also developed a bond. Not the same brand, and not augmented by the knowledge of each other's names, but a very palpable one. Near was didn't know where it might have progressed if the memory of Mello hadn't interfered, or what it was exactly now, but it was there. That bond was what made it so painful as Matt twisted between the two people he shared something with.

Matt was caught between his loyalties, and was struggling.

_There_. There was the memory at last, back from the Wammy days. It was a tiny memory, really, a brief encounter between himself and Mello that had made no sense to him at the time, and which had been discarded entirely in the face of L's demise and taking over the Kira case. Now those words Mello had spoken to him made a kind of sense.

-------

"_Matt's just a puppy, Near," Mello sneered down at him, blue eyes glinting like polished ice. "Puppies always come back to their masters. Your hold on him won't last forever."_

_Near stared at him blankly, confused. "I have no interest in stealing Mello's friend away from him."_

"_Bull," the older boy snapped. "Just remember that his first ties are with me, and so are his last." With that, Mello had stalked out of the room, leaving a bewildered boy behind…_

-------

Near felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. If what Mello had said those years ago implied what they seemed to, then Near _had_ been wrong over his assumptions. If what Mello had said could be believed, then Matt had at least shown a friendly interest in Near before Mello had even left. Mello had recognized it, and attempted to warn Near away, although the albino had no idea what he had meant at the time.

Matt had shown interest, at least a little, while Mello had still been a close friend. Which meant that Near wasn't a replacement. He was the original.

Chips of jade swam back into Near's blurred vision. Matt was again waiting for Near to rejoin the conversation, to come back from his reflections. A tiny line had appeared between his brows while Near had been woolgathering, and every muscle seemed to tense as he waited.

In a daze, the only thing Near could think to say was, "Why didn't you tell Mello your name?"

Matt blinked, and the line deepened in confusion. He scratched the back of one hand absently, and thought before he answered. "Because… well, because your name is something personal, private, and meant to be protected. Wammy's taught us that early: never reveal your true name. To go against that training…" Matt shook his head, auburn locks fluttering around his face. "Sharing your name, it should only be done with someone you absolutely trust."

It was Near's turn to blink. So, even friends as they were, Matt had not trusted Mello enough to share his name. It must have upset the temperamental blond, who had then found the name another way, effectively stealing it. How had that made the redhead feel? How had he reacted to the knowledge that the show of trust that was meant to be given had been taken by force?

And for all of that, Matt was still going to him. He said that he had to go, that there was no other option in the matter, but what did that mean? Was there something else that Mello was holding over Matt's head?

Near wondered what he would do if it came to pass that Matt _did_ return to him after Mello was safe. How far did his trust of the redhead extend? Enough to make him a part of his team, and enough to let him go back to his competitor. Was it enough to allow him to come back, when he may be under orders to undermine his every move? Mello held enough power over him to call him back to his side, who was to say that his actions couldn't also be forced at a distance?

Reaching a decision, he nodded once, locking agate gaze with jade. "I see," he said. "In that case," he leaned forward slightly, making sure that Matt caught every nuance of what he said, "my name is Nate River."

Matt started visibly, and his face became slack with shock. A full minute passed before he seemed to remember where he was. He blinked, and replied with a distant voice, "I'm Mail Jeevas."

Near smiled a little, the first time since the explosion in LA. "Then there is something of yours that I possess that Mello does not. Your trust, as well as your name."

Matt shook his head, also cracking a rueful kind of grin with a chuckle. "More than that, Near. Much more." His face became serious again, and a little sad. He shifted forward, "Nate…"

The tone warned him of what was coming next, and he interrupted. "Do not say something that you may come to regret."

Matt stopped, holding Near's gaze, the look of intense sadness and disquiet in his face almost painful to look at. "I only regret what I _haven't_ done," he said quietly. He leaned forward, so close that Near was lost in a sea of precious malachite.

Near caught his breath, and closed his eyes. A moment later there was a ruffling of the hair by his ear, Matt whispering to him, as though what he said were some secret that even the shadows were jealous to learn. Two words, both so incredibly small… but Near had to suppress a shiver.

As he watched Matt rise from the floor, Near felt coldness seep into his bones. Neither of them said another word as the elder man walked out of the SPK headquarters, as the doors slid shut with barely a sigh, cutting off Near's view of the retreating hacker. When he was gone, and Near felt as though he could move again, he slowly began the chore of gathering up his fallen kingdom, with Matt's final words the only thing he could hear:

_I'm yours._

-------

_**A/N2:**__ … Sometimes the whole 'Matt is a dog' thing annoys me. _

_So, this is a two-shot, we've got one chapter to go. Originally I had everything all lumped together and it was a one-shot… but that had the word count of more than 11K, and that just seemed mean to do all at once. So chippy-choppy went the author and we have instant two-shot… kinda. XD_

_The next chapter shall be making an appearance in one week, so 10/06. I'm not telling all now, but chapter two will have us in Matt's perspective. What's actually going on, and why did he leave Near? Wait and find out. Fair warning… I'm slightly evil to both Mello __and__ Matt in part two. Muah ha ha ha. _


	2. Leash

_**A/N:**__ Aaaaannnnnd… part two. ^^_

_For this part, I am seriously expecting things to be chucked at my head. Possibly large chocolate bars of death, (I hope), possibly grenades. There are definite hints that I've made Mello out to be quite evil in part one, and here we see just how evil I take him. All I ask before the flames begin is that you read the second author's note. I do a pretty little verbal tap dance to try and explain myself. ;D_

_Your patience has been rewarded, my minions! Here is part two!_

_**Music: **_Video Kid_ by The Birthday Massacre, and _Drown_ by Three Days Grace_

_**Warnings:**__ True name reveals for all three Wammy boys._

_**Disclaimer: **__Death Note__ © to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. If only they knew what I did to it. :3_

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Loyalty

Part Two, "Leash"

Raven Ehtar

-------

The darkened California landscape sped by as fast as Matt dared to let it. If he hadn't been in such a hurry he might have taken time to admire the open and silvery beauty of the nighttime desert, but not now. He was well outside city limits, and needed to get within them, find where Mello was hiding, and get him some kind of medical attention as soon as possible. The speed limit was 65, and he was doing 75, occasionally rising up to 80 when he let his attention wander. He needed to be fast, but at the same time he couldn't afford to be pulled over by a cop. Identification was simple enough - he had four to choose from in his wallet - but explaining the stolen car might give him a mite of trouble. He'd have to ditch it as soon as Mello was set up somewhere safe.

Mello…

Matt fumbled in the dark for his pack of cigarettes and the lighter, steering with his knee. Succeeding in finding and then lighting the cig, Matt inhaled deeply, and his esophagus and lungs screamed in protest, making him cough and his eyes water. In the last 24 hours the frequency of his vice had tripled, and his body was letting its displeasure known. However, it was the only release he could enjoy, the only thing that came close to calming him, and unwound the knot forming at the base of his skull.

Damned Mello, anyhow…

Matt watched the shadows carefully for any place where a patrol car might hide, letting his foot sink and press the pedal further into the floor, accelerating past 80… 85… 90… He didn't have a scanner, there had been no time to find one or to cobble one together himself, so he just had to hope that he spotted any police before they spotted him. All of this just because the stupid, arrogant blond didn't know when to let go.

Pulling heavily on his smoke, he thought back to when the trouble had really started, years ago, while they had all still lived at the Wammy House.

Puberty had hit Matt upside the head when it had arrived. While Mello had gone in one side and out the other without any sort of noticeable, Matt had felt as though he had been shoved into a blender. It wasn't as though he hadn't been expecting it, he was third in line, but he was smart enough to know what was coming. When his voice began to crack, he'd shrugged it off. Any spikes of aggression were anticipated and dealt with by increasing his athletic activity or his time spent with violent games. His increased food consumption was noted by the kitchen's staff and indulged. The more embarrassing aspects of male puberty were all expected, and so didn't faze him when they made an appearance.

What he hadn't expected was to find himself attracted to his best friend.

As a child, Matt had never given any thought to who he considered pretty, or fun to be around, save for the usual childish pass times. So when he found himself staring after Mello, his mind straying into distinctly more than friendly territory, it had brought him up short. It was one thing to discover that you are attracted to your own gender, and quite another for the one you're attracted to be a friend, and who was, as far as Matt was ever able to tell, as straight as a nail.

Thankfully the infatuation hadn't lasted long, although it hadn't dissipated before Mello became aware of it. He never confronted Matt about it, but he made it known, in his own way, that he had figured it out.

Where Matt's wandering affections had decided to attach themselves after that, though, only complicated matters further. Bad enough to love your friend, but to love his sworn enemy? Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Matt wasn't sure what it was that had first brought his attention to the quiet boy, because Near was so retiring that most days he barely registered on his radar. Usually he only ever heard about Near through Mello's rants, rather than seeing him for himself. He didn't know why the little albino had caught him the way he had, and there was no reason to go over the qualities that had kept Matt from straying away, as he had with Mello. Suffice it to say that his affection for Near in that way was stronger and more lasting than it had been for Mello.

When Mello had noticed the time he was deliberately spending in the boy's company, the sporadic offers to teach a videogame, and the little looks he sent Near's way, he had deduced what was going on, and had been somewhat less than pleased. He'd gone absolutely spare. He lectured and ranted to Matt about all the supposed faults of Near - which all related back to the fact that he was first in line, while Mello was second. He listed off all the ways Near could and probably would abuse Matt's affections when they were discovered. But the point Mello was probably _really_ concerned with, was the fact that Matt was his friend _first_. Whatever he was feeling for Near, it should come second to his friendship with Mello.

Mello's lectures hadn't been effective. While he refused to break off his friendship with Mello, he also couldn't ignore Near, who was thankfully oblivious to all.

The blond hadn't given up. He continued his lecturing until it became a daily ritual, and Matt thought he had even confronted Near at some point as well. That had to be wrong, though, because Near would have said something if that had been the case.

Then came the day when Mello had appeared on his threshold with a look on his face that sent Matt's stomach flipping unpleasantly. It was a smug, superior, and above all, _knowing_ look.

"My name is Mihael Keehl," he'd said, as though he were telling Matt what was for dinner, and not revealing the most taboo subject in the Wammy House. "And yours," a triumphant glitter of ice blue, "is Mail Jeevas. I'll bet you don't know that little freak's name, do you?"

Matt bit into the filter of his cigarette so hard he threatened to bite clean through. It still hurt, it still made him angry, how Mello had attempted to manipulate him, using their names. There had been no need for it, as Matt had never intended to cease being Mello's friend, but the blond was insecure enough about it that he had looked through the files and had found Matt's name on his own. He hadn't even checked to see if Matt would have _given_ his name before deciding to hack in and steal it.

In the end, there was only one person he had ever given that little piece of information to, when there might have been two. The same two that had been given to him, the first as a ploy, the second in trust.

That still floored the redhead. Nate River… he rolled it around in his mind, not quite decided if he thought it fit the man he had always known as 'Near'. It truly was a mark of trust, the new L telling anyone his real name, much less to someone he _knew_ was going to meet with and enemy. It was so personal, so unexpected… and he hadn't had the heart to tell Near that he had already known it. He'd learned it only hours before it had been offered…

_-------_

_The cell phone rang for the fifth time in ten minutes. Matt knew that it was Mello without checking the caller ID. He had already been called once that month, and wasn't due another one for weeks, but he had seen what had happened in LA as well. There would be another call._

_He didn't want to talk to Mello. He hadn't actually spoken to the man in years, only heard his voice in the messages left on his phone. He didn't want to talk, but at the same time…_

_He picked up the red square and listened, waiting without speaking, afraid his voice might betray him and break._

_He didn't wait long, as a rough and pain filled voice came through the speaker. "Matt, I screwed up bad…" There was a sharp intake of breath. "I need help."_

_Matt swallowed hard. It was difficult to hear Mello so broken, but he had known how he would answer before he had picked up. He clenched a fist and hardened his tone. "Sorry, Mello, but I'm not coming. You decided on your direction a long time ago, and it didn't include me."_

"_Matt, if this is about how I left the orphanage…"_

"_Not just that," Matt snapped, "everything. We parted ways, and I've made my choice. I'm sorry, but I can't help you." _

_He was moving to flip the phone shut, to finally cut Mello out of his life forever, when he'd caught what the wounded man was saying._

"_How's Near, Matt?"_

_The hacker froze, halfway to shutting the cell, but unable to finish the motion. There was something in that tone, something that hadn't been there before, that all but replaced the pain._

_Knowing that he had caught Matt's attention before he had a chance to hang up, Mello continued, as Matt listened with growing alarm. "I know you two have been working together, so you must know how he is. Still white as a sheet, hair like a rat's nest… You know, I can still picture him perfectly. But Wammy's did teach us all to have very __good__ memories."_

_Matt felt his stomach begin to twist. "Mello…"_

_The man on the other line ignored him, and switched topics abruptly. "You know, Matt, it's a shame we lost the notebook when we did. We were working on testing some theories. So many, in fact, that we had to tear some pages out and have multiple people working simultaneously…"_

_The knot in Matt's stomach sank. According to their information, the group led by the false L had recovered the Death Note, and so they should only have to worry over deaths caused by Kira. But if Mello had ripped out and distributed some of the pages, pages that were still floating around somewhere… and if those pages were still effective outside the notebook itself, which Mello was certainly suggesting was the case, that made this phone call much more dangerous than he had anticipated._

"_Very interesting, some of those theories," Mello was saying, his falsely cheerful tone making Matt grind his teeth. "So long as a person's face and name are known, then you can make a person die practically any way you want. Even make them __do__ whatever you want, provided it's physically possible. For up to 23 days, you have complete control over them."_

_There was a long pause as Mello allowed what he said to sink in. Matt did not respond, but continued to grit his teeth together, afraid of what he might say if he allowed them to part. A deaf man could hear the threat in what Mello was saying, there was only one missing element to make it complete. Matt wasn't surprised when Mello provided it._

"_I'm sorry, that was off topic. We were talking about your new best friend. How is our little Nate River?"_

-------

That was the first time he had ever heard Near's real name, and even though there was the possibility that Mello had made it up as a way to force Matt to come, he had no reason to disbelieve him. He had no choice but believe him, because Mello acting to prove his claims didn't bear thinking about. Near offering his name mere hours later only confirmed it, and his path back to the injured blond was even more firmly mapped out.

He didn't want to go to Mello. He didn't want to see what five years living on the wrong side had done to his childhood friend, especially not after experiencing a little of what he was now capable of. And he certainly didn't want to be dragged into that pit himself, and become someone he couldn't stand, someone he and Near worked so hard to capture. But then, what choice did he have? There was always a chance that the stray pages that Mello threatened to use were a lie, and Mello was only using their possible existence as a way to lever Matt away from Near and the SPK, but there was no way to prove that. The only way to be sure if Mello were truthful or not would be to call his bluff and that wasn't an option.

So he was going, speeding through almost pitch darkness on back roads so rough and out of the way the pavement rattled his teeth sometimes. He sucked in another drag of nicotine laced smoke, lungs blooming with fire, and increased his speed again. He'd already wasted far too much time, and he had to hurry to get to Mello before his condition worsened, or before he decided that Matt wasn't coming, and carried out his threat. There had been a lot to arrange after disconnecting the LA call, a lot that had to be put in order and dealt with before he could abandon his post with the SPK, even before he had gone to say his difficult goodbyes to Near. And despite the need for speed, Matt couldn't just hop a plane to LA, it was too dangerous. Instead he had taken a total of three flights, never taking off from the same airport he had come down in, switching identities and airlines every time, one flight actually taking him further away from LA, rather than closer to. His final plane had left him far enough away from the city to be outside any possible search radius. It was more than a little paranoid, but it was the way he had been trained, the way all Wammy children had been trained to think in order to survive.

No one would be able to use his trail to find their way back to the SPK, back to Near.

Near… Nate River…

Matt growled and accelerated even more.

-------

It had taken him three hours since entering LA to find the place where Mello was being sheltered. Considering just how large the city was, and the vague directions he'd received from Mello, Matt thought it remarkably good time. It was in a fairly disused corner of the city, in a nest of backstreets and alleys, a small underground affair that might once have been a bar or a club, but which now served as a kind of temporary hideout for some of the city's unsavory population.

Matt regretted his personal decision to not carry a gun with him as he knocked cautiously on the door, feeling the weight of sentries watching him. He could only hope that he was expected, and that Mello was still alive, otherwise his own life would hold little value.

To his surprise, the door was pulled open by a woman approaching middle age, her face already lined at the corners of her mouth and eyes, a small frosting of gray in her dark head of hair at both temples. She was hardly what Matt had been expecting to find watching over Mello, she almost looked motherly. The way she appraised him could hardly be called motherly, however, and Matt kept himself from tensing as she looked him up and down, dark eyes hard and glittering. She stared him hard in the eye, and again, Matt had to remind himself to stay relaxed, and not show any inclination to fight. Middle aged and female she may be, but there was a reason she had been chosen for this post. Matt didn't want to find out what it was the hard way.

Apparently deciding that he was who she was waiting for, she stepped back to let Matt pass and jerked her head, beckoning him in. He stepped in quickly, wanting to spend as little time publicly visible as possible.

The interior was dark, so it was hard to make out any details. Matt could see enough to tell that his earlier assumption had been correct, however, this place had once been a pub. The long counter along one wall and two much abused pool tables were evidence enough of that. Matt stayed alert, eyes never quite still, in case any of the shadows decided to attack.

The woman closed the door and bolted it, the sound making Matt itch for another cigarette. Unconsciously he began to fidget with his sleeves instead. She turned and pointed to a barely visible doorway across the room. "He's through there," she said, her voice sounding strained and worn. Matt suddenly wondered how old she really was, if she was as aged as she appeared or if the weathering was simply the result of a life lived too hard. "He's in a bad way, and needs some serious attention."

Matt started toward the door, eager to get Mello and himself away from this hole as quickly as possible, when his elbow was caught in a grip like iron, and he found himself staring into a pair of shadowed eyes. "The boy's done a lot for us," the woman said quietly, earnestly. "But he's also the one who brought in the bastards who burnt us down." The eyes became steely, and Matt's elbow was gripped even tighter. "He's no longer welcome in these parts, and if he's seen again, things won't go well for him."

Not daring to look away, Matt nodded slowly. "I understand. We'll be gone in five minutes or less. That's the last you'll see."

Her expression flickered, and she nodded once, curtly. She released Matt's arm, allowing sensation to creep back into it. "Don't go out the way you came," she said, turning away. Gathering up a bag and a jacket from a chair, she pointed off towards the bar, into an especially dark corner. "There's a back way out. The one's watching have been told to shoot anyone who leaves by the front way."

That made Matt feel less than confident about leaving the building at all, but he nodded again. Satisfied that she was no longer needed, the woman made her way to the door she had just indicated and was gone. Matt stared after her for only a second before crossing the threshold of the room that held his once friend, and now blackmailer.

This second room was even darker than the first, but Matt could tell from the feel of it that it was considerably smaller, perhaps an old office. There was only one very old shaded lamp lit, sitting on a desk and throwing out yellowed light, spawning more clinging shadows rather than chasing them away. What it did manage to reveal was the one thing that Matt had come to find: Mello laid out on an ancient couch, his head cushioned by the arm and a rolled up towel. Even in poor light, the hacker could see that Mello was badly burned. The entire left side of his face was a mess of scorched and torn flesh, as was his left shoulder, his shirt burnt and ripped away. Those who had held him had done little to tend the wounds, which Matt was both glad and irritated over. Burns were hard to care for properly, it was easy to aggravate while trying to help.

Matt approached carefully. Mello was asleep, his breathing slow and even, if somewhat shallow. Closer up, the redhead saw that the burns were attempting to heal, half closed with shiny, moist scabs. Around the raw edges there was an angry, dangerous red line; the first sign of an infection trying to take hold. He had to be taken somewhere cleaner, himself cleaned, and given antibiotics before the infection got into his blood. If that happened, Matt would be set scrambling to find someone with medical knowledge that owed him a favor.

He told himself to go forward, to pick up the slim man and carry him out, to get away from this place and find somewhere relatively safe, but he hesitated. He was comparing this angular, mutilated stranger to the boy he had known years ago, and who had walked away from him without a single word.

The Mello he had known had always been driven, and passionate about whatever it was he applied himself to, be it academics, sports, or the line of succession. He'd been quick to anger, but just as quick to cool down again in most cases; clever enough to know when he could win, and when to back away, and creative enough to turn almost any situation to his advantage.

This man who wore half of Mello's face… his drive and passion consumed everything else in its path, either destroying it or converting it into a tool to carry out it desires. He still wanted to be number one, and that drove him more than anything. He was impulsive, and quick to anger, but not so quick to forgive any longer. His cleverness was twisted around to gain whatever goal he had in mind, and his creativity had perverted into manipulation. As well as being number one, Mello wanted what it was he saw as 'his', including Matt.

And he had gotten him.

Matt stared. He looked so beaten, so helpless that he couldn't help but feel a little compassion for him. Yet, he held so much over Matt's head, effectively controlling him like a marionette. What else would Matt be forced to do, with the threat of Near's life, and practically a month's worth of suffering that could be inflicted on the albino hanging over him? Would he be forced into staying, using his skills to assist Mello? Would he be asked to kill if it was needed? In the utmost extreme, if Mello decided that just having Matt with him wasn't enough, would he be ordered to kill Near himself?

Matt couldn't be sure what was beyond the blond anymore. With all of the horrible possibilities that Mello could visit Near with should he have the power of the Death Note, he couldn't say that killing Near himself, quickly, wouldn't be preferable… or that he wouldn't do it.

He was trapped.

He took another step forward, ready to take up his charge, when a glint of something on the desk caught his eye, stopping him.

It was a gun. Even without ever having seen it before, he knew that it was Mello's gun. Silver in body, black handle, the dull light caught along its sharp angles and was reflected back again, somehow brighter than before. Mesmerized by the angular beauty of it, Matt reached out and picked it up without thinking, feeling the weight of it in his hand. This, if nothing else, was the physical evidence of how much Mello had changed in five years, of how different he was from the boy of Wammy's. Matt wondered if Mello had ever needed to use it.

Holding Mello's gun, and standing over the man, an idea began to form in his mind, alluring for all of its horror. As long as Mello held the threat of the Death Note's power over him, neither Near or Matt would ever be safe. Whatever Mello might want out of either of them, he could have. Even without the notebook pages, knowing Near's real name and his face was dangerous. He could use that information without a killer notebook, as there were many people who would give a great deal to know so much about the new L. It was dangerous information, in the hands of a dangerous man, and Near would never be safe as long as Mello held it.

Matt's thumb grazed over the hammer, his index finger caressed the trigger, and he licked his lips. There was only one way to take information away, once it was known. If Matt truly wanted to guarantee Near's safety from Mello, there was only one choice.

The hacker stood over the mobster, gun hanging by his side, and slowly pulled back the hammer…

The gun was carefully put back on the desk, and Matt turned away to take up the sleeping Mello gingerly.

Despite what the blond had become and what it was he all but promised to do, he was still Mello, and Matt was still Matt. He couldn't forget the friendship they had once had any more than he could forget his feelings for Near. Doubtless there would come a time when he would be forced to choose, when he would be driven into a corner he couldn't get out of without breaking all ties to one or the other, but now was not that time.

Avoiding the healing burns, Matt rolled Mello over and looped a limp and heavy arm around his shoulders. Mello groaned in his ear, pain ridden and exhausted. As they made their way out, Mello's gun tucked in the back of Matt's waistband and Mello being half carried, half dragged along, Mello's head came up slightly, and Matt caught a glimmer of blue from the uninjured eye, the one closest to him.

Mello smiled, and for an instant Matt felt a surge of nostalgia at the familiar sight. It was a smile Mello used to wear after a prank or trick played when they were young; one that was amused, apologetic, and triumphant all at once. It made Matt think that maybe his decision to come hadn't been so wrong after all.

That hope was shattered when the only thing Mello said to Matt was, "Good boy."

-------

_**A/N2:**__ Oh, snap. What did I do? _

_Alright, before the wave of hate sweeps over me like a tropical storm, let me explain something very clearly. I do not see Mello as an inherently evil character. Everyone get that? To my way of thinking, Mello is not evil, he's a passionate and driven individual who took the fight against Kira, the mission to avenge L, and his personal desire to outdo Near to a rather extreme place. I can definitely see the __potential__ for Mello to have become an evil personality, or even warped in much the same way Beyond Birthday did, (a close thing, in my opinion), but he didn't quite make it. What I've done here is just tweaked him a bit to see what he might have been like if that potential were realized. And honestly, I can still see where he could come out of this as misunderstood more than anything. I've thought once or twice about an extra chapter from Mel's POV to show this, but I'm still debating it. (I take votes, to a certain degree, so if you want to see it, say so! ;D)_

_Hopefully that will quell some of the flames, at least. I hope. _

_Other than that, what is there to say? Well, this was fun to write. I usually try to write fictions that fit well with the original story or have the possibility to have had happened, and I think that this one could have, so I'm actually satisfied with it on that score. I'm also glad that I decided __not__ to make this the ending to __Playtime__… far too dramatic for something meant to be cute and light. Writing from an adult Matt's perspective was both fun and a challenge, and I've discovered that I quite like playing him as a stronger character. There's the possibility of seeing this kind of Matt in the future, should a likely plot rise from the depths of my twisted little imagination._

_Please let me know what you thought, everyone. This is a bit different from what I've written before, at least to my eyes. It's leading me up to a large project that's quite near and dear to me, and which I am becoming quite nervous about, so I would appreciate some feedback over the style and tone seen here._

_**Thanks to all who read, all who follow my work, all who just happen to stumble upon it, and to all who give me their thoughts, large and small! With luck, I shall see you all again on the 13**__**th**__** of October!**_


	3. Cornered

_**A/N:**__ And at long last, my readers, we have the third and final chapter to 'Loyalty'. You, some of you, asked for a look from Mello's POV, so here you are. It's been a long time since I worked on this piece, (for which I apologize), and originally hadn't planned on a third part, so I hope it fits with parts one and two. -.-;_

_**Music: **_Born Like This _and_ Animal I Have Become _by Three Days Grace_

_**Disclaimer: **__Death Note__ © to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata. …Ninja outfit for sneaky thieving at the ready… _

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Loyalty

Part Three, "Cornered"

Raven Ehtar

-------

Pain… There was a lot of pain in this particular patch of nothing, as though the darkness Mello's consciousness drifted through were mourning the physical reality it lacked, and made him feel its grief. There was nothing to see, hear, or smell, but his tactile senses were literally on fire. From the center of his face, down the left side of his neck and the same shoulder and arm was a tight, throbbing web of acid. His head pounded ceaselessly, it was a wonder it was still attached. His back ached with any tiny motion he attempted to make, and every muscle throbbed as though he's run from one end of LA to the other.

There was nothing here save his pain and muddled thoughts. He tried to remember what it was that had put him in so much torment, what could have his entire body alight and screaming its displeasure. Pieces came to him through the dark. Bits and ends to the larger picture that led him to this place that wasn't quite dead, but certainly was it neither the land of the living.

L was dead, and Near was his successor.

He was in America, LA, a part of the mafia.

There was… a notebook… that killed whoever's name was written in it.

There was a killer, called Kira, who had one. He was the cause of everything that had gone wrong.

Mello had held a notebook - a death note - and had been using it to catch Kira, and beat Near, avenge L.

An explosion… pain.

Swimming out of pain long enough to hear voices, to see a woman, and demand a phone.

The phone… a number he'd dialed dozens of dozens of times…

Matt! His childhood friend's face filled Mello's thoughts, pushing everything else out and out of the way. Matt was who he had called, called for help after his plan had failed. Matt would come, things could be salvaged, his plans could be repaired and put back into motion if Matt was with him again.

Something tickled, just off the edge of his memory. Something important, that tainted his rising hope of remembering Matt would soon be close by. He didn't want to recall what it was, what detail he had forgotten that cast Matt in shadow. He could feel it approaching closer, like a storm on the horizon; huge, dark, and just as inevitable.

The acrid smell of cigarettes came to him, gave him something corporeal to hold on to and drag himself away from the approaching gale. Slowly, painfully, he followed the scent away from unconsciousness and into the lighter shadows of a dimly lit room.

The first thing that eventually resolved itself into something recognizable was a ceiling. He barely had time to register that it was a paneled ceiling, old, stained and sagging, before the waiting agony in his body and the fresh pain as light stabbed his retinas lanced through him. He squeezed his eyes shut to bar the intrusive brightness.

Or rather, one eye. His left eye had never opened, and trying to force it to close tighter set the left side of his face aflame. Automatically his body shifted, tried to turn onto one side and curl up to escape the pain cutting through it, but that only made it so much worse. Forgetting his pride and his shields, aware only of how badly even dragging in the next breath hurt him, Mello whimpered, then groaned when that failed to alleviate. Was this all that was left to the world: pain? Rather that he had died in the explosion than survive if this is what was left to him.

Then there was something… some_one_ close by, turning him over until he was on his back again. They used slow, gentle pressure, but it was firm enough to be authoritative. He thought he heard words being murmured close by, they might have been directed at him, but he couldn't make them out. Finally Mello was lying still, panting heavily, drenched in sweat and not wanting to risk opening his eye again, even to see who he was with. He would have to try it soon enough, if he survived, but not now. For now, he had to rest, had to heal, at least to where he could think.

Before he could quite slip back into the dark abyss, something cool and moist was at his lips. His body registered what it was before his brain did, and he grabbed for the glass, drinking convulsively and nearly choking on the water as it dribbled down his chin. He couldn't sit up to drink properly on his own, but whoever it was that brought it, and slid a hand under his back to help him up. Mello cursed at the fresh wave of pain it brought, but it was a short, weak bout. He quickly refocused on sucking down as much water as possible without killing himself in the process.

Too soon the glass was empty, and his throat was still parched, the inside of his mouth like it was stuffed with cotton. The support at his back and the glass at his lips were both slowly taken away, and the presence at his side withdrew.

Mello wanted to fall back asleep, to drift off into unconsciousness as he had been about to, but now he was thinking more clearly and his mind was trying to process where he was. The ceiling had been tiled and sagging; the old Mafia hideout's ceilings had all been concrete. Those would be gone, he remembered well enough to know for certain he _had_ pressed the detonator. The ceiling he last recalled seeing… was a haze of muddled pain, confusion and shouts… but it had been an old, smoke stained ceiling, slowly losing its spackle to age and water damage. He had been moved since the last time he'd been awake.

Carefully he raised his right hand up to gingerly feel around his own face. The right side felt reasonably intact, a little sore and the odd scrape or two, but less than you would expect coming out of an explosion. The left side… the left side was covered, draped with what felt like a single, thin layer of cotton sheeting. It was wet, and felt too warm to Mello's fingers. Further exploration - proceeding delicately, as even light touches through the sheet covering his injuries shot needles of burning ice through him - revealed his entire left side was similarly covered. He was bare, save that sheet, from the waist up, and even though he could tell the air around him was cold, his skin burned with remembered flames.

He was hurt badly. From the feel he had been severely burned; all second degree at most - he could tell because he could still _feel_ it - but extensive. He was feverish, and dehydrated. Most likely he would also be extremely hungry once he'd fully regained his senses. He'd been moved while he'd been unconscious, and he no longer knew where he was. Or in whose power he was in.

The smell of cigarettes had woken him, the one who had helped him to drink had reeked of them. His breathing had been easy and clear. A heavy smoker, but only recently picked up the habit, or was very young. The gentleness in the way he helped him drink, and the comforting words he hadn't quite caught suggested that Mello could consider himself on friendly turf… But that was a risky assumption. Whoever was tending him might not be the one in charge, or if he was, he might be treating him well only to gain his trust. He wouldn't know until he had some clue whose hands he was in now, and where they had stood in relation to his Mafia branch… and where they stood now that it was mostly extinct thanks to him.

Mello heard footsteps approaching him, his body tensed a little. He'd been given water and had been moving, they knew he was awake. What he could expect now was either an interrogation or a laying down of the law.

So it surprised him when that same hand, accompanied by the thick odor of cigarettes, was lifting him up again, the smooth rim of the glass pressing against his lower lip. Startled, but not dazed enough to let the opportunity for more water to pass him by, he drank slowly, guiding this glass with more control than the first. When it too was drained, Mello was guided down, the cloth covering him pulling over burnt skin and exposed flesh, making him suck air through his teeth.

The back of a hand rested briefly on Mello's forehead. Compared to his own skin it felt wonderfully cool and dry. Then the coverings over his chest were lifted away. Air raked razors over the tortured flesh, Mello growled in place of the cry he wanted to let out. When fingers poked around the edges of the burn, Mello nearly lashed out.

"No swelling or pus," said a quiet voice. "The redness has gone down, and it won't need to be washed again for another couple hours. You could probably do with a double dose of painkillers, though, and your nails will need trimming to keep you from tearing it open again as it heals. Have you had a tetanus shot in the last five years?"

The first attempt at speaking failed, his voice coming out strangled and weak. Mello coughed, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Are you a doctor?"

There was a pause. Mello sensed that the man was considering his answer carefully before giving it. "No," he said finally. "You need one. More to the point, you need some place sterile to heal up in, but that's obviously out of the question, isn't it? I'll assume that you've not had a booster in awhile. Not that it matters if you did," the man continued to mutter, apparently to himself. "Doesn't matter if you become allergic to the preventative if you die from the infection." More footfalls, heavy and suggesting the man wore boots, retreated a short way, then there was the sound of a drawer opening and glass objects being taken out.

Not a doctor, then, but someone who knew enough about burns to treat them properly without a full medical facility, and who could get their hands on medical supplies. That spoke loudly for the capabilities of his… saviors? Captors? Whoever they were, and that they wanted him alive. That was good for him, as far as it went.

"Where am I?"

The man grunted amid the sounds of what he assumed was a needle being prepped. "Safe. At least relatively, and for now, and only from people. In fact," the tone took on a decidedly sardonic bite, "if you want to know the truth, we're about as far from 'safe' as we're ever likely to be, God willing. You especially. If stress, fever, or infection don't kill you first, Kira's got next dibs, followed by just about every organized criminal entity this side of LA. That's of course assuming you don't get yourself killed first."

Mello was silent for a minute. It wasn't the information itself that had him thinking, it was the fact that this person knew so much. That he felt confident enough to speak to him as he did also puzzled him. If he had that much information, then he should also know Mello's reputation, and that should have him speaking a little more respectfully. Unless there was something he knew that Mello didn't. "That doesn't answer _where_ I am," he said, forcing more command into his voice.

If the other was affected, it didn't show. "Knowing the address of this filthy little piece of hell won't help you. You're in no condition to leave, and won't be for some time. Now shut up and hold still." Mello's right arm was lifted, and a patch at the ball of his shoulder was swabbed clean. Mello almost laughed at the futility of that little token of cleanliness, but the needle quickly followed and he bit off any sound to prevent it turning into a yelp. His caregiver was being careful, and his hands were steady, but it was evident that he wasn't used to administering shots. Mello gritted his teeth.

Needle was followed by swab again, then a bandage. The place where he'd been stuck already ached; he hated tetanus shots.

"Here." Four pills were pressed into Mello's hand. "For the pain, though those will only dull it. You still swallow them dry, right?"

Again Mello paused at this show of personal knowledge. Something was tugging at his memory, like he should know precisely who this was and where he was…

The pills were swallowed without question. If he was going to be killed, simply leaving him would probably do the trick, or directly injecting him with something, as had just been done. He wasn't going to doubt what he was given to consume when there were so many other ways he could be killed. Something else was pressed into his palm, something large and flat, but reasonably light. Mello brought it close to his face, intending to risk another brief opening of his eye to examine the new offering when he caught the scent of it.

Chocolate.

"I'll also assume that it's been awhile since your favorite little vice." The footfalls retreated their furthest, and the tired squeak of ancient springs told Mello the man had sat down.

The final shreds of Mello's disorientation were swept away. He remembered the last vestiges of his dream, of demanding a phone, of calling the familiar number, and through the haze of a fever seeing the face he'd waited to see for years.

Matt. Matt _had_ come for him, had found him and taken him somewhere safe, and was tending him.

Unfortunately, he also remembered why it was that revelation made his heart sink into the pit of his stomach, rather than lift to the clouds. Matt was here, his childhood friend was at his side, but he wasn't _his_. Matt didn't want to be here, hadn't chosen to come to his side. Mello had forced him into that. If he had his choice, he would still be where he had been before Mello called him.

He would still be with Near.

A fresh wave of something that was not pain washed through his wiry frame, making him tremble.

Anger. Rage. Resentment.

Damn Near! Damn him to rot in the lowest level of hell! No matter where Mello turned, there he was, mocking him in his easy, careless superiority. Everything came to him as though he were the delta at the end of a river; all he had to do was wait and all was his to claim. While Mello, he was the one paddling upstream, straining and working too hard to snatch up the prizes that drifted past. It infuriated him, everything he worked so hard for landing in that… that _child's_ lap.

L's approval, although never officially given, was settled on the albino boy as immovably as his genetic flaw. With that approval came the funding, the legacy of the late detective, paving whatever paths his abilities and the reputation of the name 'L' did not. Legitimate support was his to wield as well. He may have to be secretive, but he didn't have to rely on murderers, thieves and drug addicts, who were as likely to turn and kill him as help him to carry out his orders. Mello had to fight for every inch he got, while Near had everything handed to him, easy and ready.

Including Matt. Matt, who was supposed to be _his_ friend, who _had_ been his friend, until…

Control, he wanted his control back more than anything. If he'd ever even really had it. Sometimes he thought it was just an illusion he'd been indulging in, and was only now awakening from. He felt it slipping away from him in the form of L's death, Near's rise over him, Kira's approach, the loss of his Mafia cronies… He felt his control crumbling away, and he always reacted too violently in attempt to regain it. Leaving Wammy's to go it alone, falling in with the Mafia, kidnapping to force the hand of the Japanese Task Force, ordering the kills of almost all of Near's team, and finally what he'd done to get Matt away from his pale little rival.

And Matt hated him. That much he knew, he could hear it in his friend's voice if simple logic didn't tell him already. Mello had threatened not only him, but held Near's life as bait and forced him to betray the boy. Mello's enemy, who Matt claimed to actually love… By that act, Mello had solidified Matt's hatred towards him.

Before he had been without Matt, and had earned the younger man's anger. Now he had Matt with him, Near could no longer claim him, but he also had his hatred. It was questionable whether any improvement had been made.

The edge of Mello's consciousness fuzzed and closed in abruptly, the ever present pain and fresh medication forcing him under and away from his thoughts.

_At least Near doesn't have Matt,_ Mello thought as he slipped back into darkness. _He can't claim that advantage anymore._

-------

Someone was grinding shards of ice into his chest.

He was up with a roar that was strangled into an incoherent garble by his dry throat, lashing out with a fist and catching something that gave away with a smaller yelp. The grinding of ice abruptly ceased, leaving behind only a stinging cold across his torso. As his vision cleared, the light now only making him squint, he saw Matt on the floor, left hand clutching over his eye where Mello's blow had caught him. Mello snarled down at the redhead, ignoring the pull it caused on the left side of his face.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

A single green eye glared back up at him from under ragged auburn bangs. For an instant, he looked like he had as a gangly kid when the sports had gotten too rough for him. But now there was an element, a quality in that jade stare that gave him more adult gravity than the increased length of his limbs or the bluish cast of beard stubble at his chin. He still wore his black and white striped shirt and the goggles hung at his throat, but the child who'd been his friend was gone. "Trying to save the life of a madman," he replied ruefully, rubbing his cheek. "Although you seem to object to that idea."

Mello sneered, an expression and response that had become habit over the years. "You call that torture saving my life?"

The lanky man rolled his eye, removing his hand with a wince. His left eye was already red and swelling. "This 'torture'," he said, holding up a white plastic tube, "is to keep you from catching some infection and dying in a fever." He pushed himself up off the floor with a grunt, staggered slightly, caught himself, and straightened. "If you don't mind?"

Mello looked down at his own body, saw that the protective coverings that had been in place over his burns were pulled back. What they had hidden from sight was a moist, mottled mass of tortured flesh. The fact that it was his own body only made his disgust more pointed. Mello turned his face away and fell back into the waiting pillows.

Matt took that as his acquiescence and came forward again with his stinging antibiotic cream. Mello, with an effort, held himself still while the rest of his wound was covered with the thick stuff, biting his tongue whenever the pain threatened to pull a scream out of him.

That part of his treatment done, Matt re-covered him with a clean, damp cotton sheet, over which he laid thin sheets of plastic he thought were cellophane. Then he pulled back the covering over Mello's face.

Mello hissed as air harped over the exposed nerves, reminding himself to keep that eye closed. He didn't want to aggravate that part of his face any more than it already was. And frankly, he wasn't ready to check if he could still see properly out of that eye, if at all. Matt came close, daubing the lesion with a cloth before applying the cream. "Second degree burns across 30% of your face and no small amount of the rest of your body," he muttered absently. "You _should_ be in a hospital."

The blond man grimaced. "Wouldn't you miss treating me yourself?" he asked, the question coming out more barbed than he had intended.

"No," the other snapped, recovering Mello's face with fresh cotton, then the cellophane. He stared down at Mello for a moment, murky green eyes burning down into the prone man. Finally, before turning on his heel to leave him alone again, he ground out, "_I_ don't enjoy causing pain, Mels."

Matt went back to his seat with the complaining springs, picked up what looked like one of his handheld videogame consoles, and proceeded to ignore Mello.

The elder man stared after him for a minute. Matt hadn't said the words, but the accusation hung in the air as effectively as if he had. _"I don't enjoy causing pain __**the way you do.**__"_ Considering what he had done to get Matt here, it wasn't entirely unjustified.

Feeling something close to anguish rising up in him, Mello fought it back with something easier to handle, something more familiar: Anger.

He would heal, and quickly. He would get out of this bed and continue the fight in all of its layers. If everything had been taken away from him, if everything and everyone was against him, and even treasured friendships were now little more than ash, then his victory would only be that much more glorious. He'd branded himself a criminal - him! An heir to L was now what he had been determined to stamp out. And now he was a criminal who would be gladly shot by his fellow dregs.

A criminal, a turncoat, and a betrayer of the worst sort.

His future had been taken away, but he would take something back to replace it. He would find Kira, make him pay. L would be avenged, Mello would prove himself Near's superior despite all of his disadvantages, and Matt…

Matt was no longer his, would never forgive or trust him again. Any hope Mello might have had of that was effectively dashed. After everything was over… he would let the redhead go back to Near. After all he'd done to his friend, he couldn't hold on to him indefinitely, keep him away from the one place he wanted to be.

He would have his victory, and then he would fade away. There was no place that would accept him anymore.

Mello closed his eye, found the chocolate bar by his hand that Matt had given him earlier, and took his first bite of it. He _would_ heal fast, his determination and drive would fuel his body and his rate of regeneration, but he would still have time until he was ready to move again. He needed to plan between now and then. Without his resources, he couldn't continue as he had been before. He couldn't rely only on force to achieve what he wanted. Now his force had to be applied a little more precisely.

He needed to see Near. A few choice tidbits in his rival's ear might gain him the advantage he needed.

-------

_**A/N2:**__ And we're back off into the original __Death Note__ story. ^^ I wanted this whole thing to be a maybe-possibly it happened behind the scenes while no one was looking… I still like to think it could have happened. :D_

_A little note on the chapter titles. In each chapter we see things happening from a different character's perspective, and for the chapter titles, (Trust, Leash, and Cornered), I wanted it to reflect that character's position in relation to loyalty. Near puts a lot of trust into Matt, Matt is forced to follow after Mello, and Mello has no choices left to him. Maybe a little hokey, but that's kinda my thing. ;D_

_**Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, faved, and/or alerted this piece, the support has been marvelous. It's been a pleasure writing this, I hope y'all can say the same about reading it! **_


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